Field Notes

Sensational Geographic: The Micro-Wetland Merger

The 31-Day Double Drabble — Midwest Edition

The only wetland on the property currently behaving itself. Image by author.

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The indoor sanctuary has officially doubled its real estate. My older son’s girlfriend brought over a second miniature habitat, and now the original ceramic planter with the plastic ducks sits beside a thriving, purple-veined coleus plant, complete with a green leaf hammock and two microscopic birds resting on quiet moss.

What a contrast to the anarchy raging across the sliding door. Outside, the real runoff pond is a non-stop theater of suburban warfare, full of muddy property-line disputes, territory grabs, and relentless nocturnal screaming matches. The backyard has become a mess where wildlife operates with zero regard for boundaries, volume control, or civic order.

Meanwhile, this combined miniature ecosystem sits on the table, behaving itself with perfect, uncharacteristic zen. The dining room table has been designated a demilitarized zone. The tiny mallard stands guard over a lush carpet of green, while the microscopic ceramic birds remain unbothered, resting their wings on the moss. There are no frantic starlings mimicking car alarms, no screaming matches, and zero property-line litigation.

It turns out that if you want a wetland in this county that doesn’t require litigation, it has to be made of clay and sit between the pepper grinder and napkin holder.

The expansion parcel: purple-veined coleus, quiet moss, and two birds who have filed no complaints. Image by author.

Day 25 of 31 — The Micro-Wetland Merger

Part of Short Story Month — one entry a day, kept short, somewhere between a drabble and a double.

The Micro-Wetland Authority extends peaceful thanks to Brenda Arledge for the challenge that started this daily madness, and to everyone who has kept showing up for demilitarized dining tables, compliant habitats, and all wetlands small enough to sit between the pepper grinder and napkin holder.

Read this by Dave Of All Styles if you’ve ever wanted to walk away from every exhausting social performance and never look back.

Sharp, funny, and painfully recognizable, this story turns aging into a kind of liberation fantasy. Every interaction lands like the thing people wish they’d said twenty years ago, and the humor works because beneath the sarcasm is something brutally honest: the exhaustion of pretending to care just to keep everyone comfortable.

[embed]I Turned 60 And Finally Stopped Giving A Damn You can’t gaslight a man who doesn’t caremedium.com

Previous entries: *The 31-Day Backyard Edition*

Bookmark this space. The indoor habitat remains in full compliance.

[embed]Paint the World With Short Stories Thirty-one days of adventuremedium.com